Happy Sunshine Lightman Christmas On The Rocks
by pjstillnoon
Summary: She gave him another chaste kiss that made Cal smile. "I think at Christmas everythin' should be bright and cheerly." Cal looked at his t-shirt. "I'm not in the appropriate festive attire?" Gillian shook her head. "Want me to take it off?" Gillian nodded.


_AN: this is challenge number three in the Doctor Callian writing challenges. Also, this is Doctor Callian's Christmas present. Merry Christmas Doc!_

**PJPJPJPJ**

Cal strode through his building. Christmas was in the air. Literally. Gillian had found the 'perfect' pine tree this year, deciding she was going to 'splurge' on the real deal, and not only were its needles dusting the floor but its scent was coating the air. Cal considered himself lucky he wasn't allergic, to anything really, but pine trees in particular. Ria hadn't stopped sneezing since the thing had arrived last week and her nose was a red mess. Gillian immediately apologised, said she would get rid of it. But Ria refused graciously. She loved the live tree, the live tree just didn't love her.

Cal headed for coffee in the break room. He could feel the sway of the pom pom hat on his head, the way the white bud batted his shoulder gently as he strode. He grinned as he walked even though no one was paying any particular attention to him. He was in a good mood. Today, was the last day of work. They were closed over the few days of Christmas and that meant, with Emily being out of town with some hideous Landau family affair, that he would have the house to himself for three whole days. It had snowed and not turned to ice yet. His fridge was stocked with Cal-style Christmas food and his liquor cabinet had just been replenished. He planned on eating junk, drinking possibly a little bit too much, and walking around the house in his underwear.

"Hey Lightman."

"Go away Loke-a, you're killin' my buzz," Cal told him glancing at the stack of folders in the other man's arms.

"What kind of buzz?" Loker followed him. "Have you started on Foster's egg nog?"

"She made what?" Cal asked ducking into the break room. There was a plastic punch bowl on one of the tables, a matching ladle, stacks of paper cups. Cal approached, stared down at the liquid. "She bloody well did," he said in amazement. He walked to the other side of the room and headed out the other door.

"Hey!" He heard Loker call after him. "I need you to look over..."

Cal headed around a corner quickly. Was she in? She should be. She hated going out in the snow. It was too cold. She liked it better the next day when it was just that little bit warmer and flakes didn't get in her eyes. Cal didn't bother knocking on her office door when he approached. From the outside he could see wasn't at her desk, but as he pulled the glass door open and stepped into the warmth, he could see she wasn't there at all. On the corner of her desk was a bowl of marshmallow Santa's. There were fairy lights in her window, tinsel on the book shelves, other Christmasy stuff. Cal hadn't even turned up the heating in his office yet.

He went to the desk. Fingered a Santa. He wondered if it had melted in the heat. Because Cal felt like he might break out in a sweat in a minute, it was so warm in her room. He grabbed a Santa and tore the plastic open. Surprisingly, the chocolate hadn't bleed. "Please, help yourself," Gillian startled him.

"I uh," Cal stuttered.

Gillian smirked as she passed him. She dropped her bag on the desktop and started to peel back her coat. "How can you stand it bein' so bloody warm in here?" Cal asked instead as she hooked the coat on a rack in the corner.

"It's cold outside."

"That's not in here," Cal cocked his head to prove his point.

"I'm not warm blooded."

"Ah I thought there was somethin' different about you," Cal took a seat opposite her desk.

"If you want me to get any work done, I have to have the heat."

Cal gave a slight smile. "If that's what you need... somethin' warm blooded..."

Gillian reached for her own Santa, smiling, but also ignoring him.

"I can help you with a warm body..." Cal continued.

Gillian tore her Santa open.

"You that aggressive with undressin' all your men?" Cal kept going. He thought he saw a slight reddening over her cheeks. But she still didn't answer him. "Need me to make a crack about lickin' chocolate body paint off a real man?"

Gillian gave a slight laugh, shook her head, her blue eyes flashing in amusement. "No! No more innuendo thanks. I've had my fill for today."

Cal gave her an exaggerated pout.

"Did you want something in particular or did you come to make sex jokes with my marshmallow Santas?"

"I came to see if they were anatomically correct," Cal made a show of peering down the front of his packaged Santa. He didn't want to eat the thing. He wasn't a fan of marshmallow.

"Oh Cal!"

"What?" He looked up again. She was giving him a slightly horrified expression. Cal wondered if he had something on his face.

"Your hat," Gillian shook her head.

Cal grinned. "What about it?"

"That's so... not in the spirit of Christmas."

"It certainly is," Cal huffed good naturedly.

"Maybe in your spirit..."

Cal got up. He had completely forgotten what he had come to see her about in the first place. He came around her desk and handed her his chocolate Santa, then he took the black Santa hat, with 'bah humbug' written around the brim, off and dropped it lightly on her head. He leaned down to kiss her cheek as she turned her head to look up at him, amused.

Cal pressed his lips gently against her skin, still cool from the cold snowy air. "Maybe you can warm it up for me," he told her gently and turned to leave her office.

"Maybe your heart will also grow two sizes," Gillian called after him with a grin in her tone as he let her office door swing shut behind him.

**PJPJPJPJ**

Cal heard the knock on the front door easily from his position on the couch in the living room, despite it being tentative. He swung his feet to the floor and straightened up. He shuffled in socks to answer it. It wasn't late enough for him to be annoyed by the intrusion, but the position he had carved out of the cushions had been absolutely perfect. And he had actually found a decent movie to watch that was just starting. He had a drink poured, a toasted sandwich. All right, maybe he was a little annoyed by the intrusion.

"Hey," he answered the door in surprise.

"Hey Cal," Gillian gave him a careful smile. She was reading him, trying to see if her unannounced visit was welcome.

"Come on in luv," Cal opened the door wider without question. He didn't care what she was doing there and he didn't need to know the why. She was always welcome. Day or night. It was snowing again and as Cal helped her out of her coat, because she was also holding on to a large tote bag, he brushed away snowflakes from her shoulders and the back of her hair. They moved into the living room. The movie Cal had started to watch was now a good ten minutes in to the beginning.

"Were you watching this?" Gillian asked incredulously as she moved around the couch to sit down.

Cal thought about lying. "I was until you interrupted," he said instead.

Gillian sat. "I'm not complaining." She rummaged through her bag. "It's just," she continued to search. "I brought this over to watch." She leaned over to hand him a DVD. It was the movie currently on the screen: _Love Actually_. Cal smirked and went to the DVD player. At least now he could skip through all the scenes he hated.

"And," Gillian continued. Cal turned to see her produce a bottle of scotch. He placed the disc on the tray and smiled to himself. So she was lonely. That was why she was there on Christmas Eve. "And," Gillian said again, drawing out the syllables. Cal closed the disc tray and turned towards her, setting the case on the coffee table. "We are going to drink responsibly." She produced popcorn. And then a large bag of Skittles.

"Not sure that counts as a healthy linin' of the stomach," Cal said plopping down on the couch at the other end.

"And what do you call that?" Gillian pointed out his sandwich.

"Dinna."

"Hardly a healthy dinner."

"What did you have?"

"Chicken and steamed rice."

"Bloody hell," Cal muttered reaching for said sandwich. "You can be bothad cookin' for yourself?"

"It's important to eat balanced meals."

"From the person with the motha load of junk food in her lap?"

"Oh Cal," Gillian gave him a disparaging shake of her head. Her tone was full of pity. "This isn't the mother load. This is merely a snack for a movie."

"You're right," Cal spoke around a mouthful of bread and cheese. "I've seen your kitchen on Halloween. Diabetic would have a fit."

Gillian covered a smirk. "Shhh, you're talking through the credits."

"Me?" Cal feigned innocence.

"Oh, one more thing," Gillian reached for her tote bag again.

"Now who's talking through the credits?"

Gillian shushed him as she hunted. Cal wondered what else she had in there. A heart for the Tin Man? Courage? _'I don't think there's anything in that black bag for me.'_

"Here," she produced a red Santa's hat. "Come here," she instructed and Cal dipped his head for her to place it over his hair. "Much better."

Cal straightened up again, noting he could see down the front of her shirt when she leaned towards him.

"I can't believe you didn't fight me on that," Gillian told him, looking over in curiosity.

Cal gave a shrug and swallowed the last of his sandwich. "I'm feelin' festive."

Gillian gave him a slight smile. "Glasses?"

"Mine? Or somethin' to drink out of?"

"My eye sight is perfectly fine," Gillian responded.

"I'll have you know, I was perfectly comfortable on this couch until you knocked on my door," Cal complained as he got up again.

"Or you could have just gotten glasses while you were all ready up," Gillian called after him as he wandered into the dining room where his crystal tumblers were kept. "And hurry up! We're all ready missing the movie!"

"There's a bloody remote!" Cal yelled back. When he came back in with two tumblers, the screen was frozen on Bill Nighy in the recording booth, arms wide, trying to get his lyrics right. "Here!" He handed over the vessels as if he were aggrieved.

Gillian had opened the bag of popcorn. "And can you get me a bowl?" She asked with big blue eyes.

"Damnit," Cal complained again. "Do I look like a bloody waita?"

"You look cute in your Santa's hat!" Gillian called after him.

Cal pulled a plastic bowl from the cupboard and paper towels and ice, just in case, and headed back to the living room. The DVD had been re-set to the Heathrow scene and Gillian was pouring scotch. "Ice?"

"Well that would be delightful," Gillian responded while keeping her eyes on her pour.

Cal sat and unloaded and then settled back and watched her dole out ice and scotch and pour the popcorn into the bowl. "So what else have you got in that bag?"

Gillian gave him a slightly suspicious glare out of the corner of her eye. "Supplies."

"What kind of supplies?"

She looked around the tastefully decorated room. "Just in case supplies."

"You don't trust me to spread the appropriate amount of Christmas cheer?" Cal feigned hurt.

"You can never be too sure with you," Gillian handed him his drink and placed the popcorn on the cushion between them. Cal snagged the remote and moved it out of her way. Now he could skip all the scenes he hated.

**PJPJPJPJ**

"You're pissed," Cal chuckled.

"I'm not!" Gillian responded indignantly. She sat back against the couch, tilting her head back to rest on the cushions. "Why is the room spinning?" She complained.

Cal giggled.

Gillian looked over at him. "Did you just giggle?" Cal shook his head 'no'. "You did. That's so cute!" She held out a wavering hand and after a moment it connected with his arm. She gripped it. "You're very cute Cal Lightman."

He gave her a wide smile, teeth showing. "The room _is_ spinning," he noted.

"You know, I haven't been drunk in a reeaaaaaaally long time."

Cal thought he had quirked an eyebrow but maybe he just sat there. Gillian stared at him and it was hard to tell if she was moving slightly or if he was swaying slightly. "Are you complainin'?"

"No, not complainling." Gillian frowned. "Complaying." She waved a hand. "You know what I mean."

Cal nodded. "But this is your fault you know."

Gillian over exaggerated shock. "How, is this _my_ fault?"

"You, scotch, drinkin' games."

Gillian broke into a grin. Then she giggled. "I didn't come over to get you drunk!"

"Could have fooled me," Cal smirked.

Gillian sniggered. "You wish."

"On all fairness, who would have thought they would say 'love'... how many times did they say it?"

"I lost account," Gillian gave him a bashful expression.

"Somewhere near the end of the bottle I think," Cal mused.

"How come your words aren't slurry?"

"Cos I'm a seasoned drinka."

Gillian pouted, her blue eyes dark. "You're not that much older than me Clal."

"Maybe not in human years but in dog years that's hundreds of years olda."

Gillian gave him a genuine smile. "You make me laugh."

Cal gave her a grin.

She reached up an unsteady hand and leaned towards him slightly. "I like your hat very much. It's very becomning."

"Good friend gave it to me."

"Well they have taste."

"Sure do." Cal realised Gillian must have been slowly sliding towards him for the last few seconds. Suddenly her face was just centimetres away from him. He could feel her breath warm over his nose. He gave her another lazy grin. She tilted her chin up wards and pressed her lips against his.

"Better than the black one."

"Got somethin' against black?"

"The clolor? Nope," she gave a slight shake of her head. She gave him another chaste kiss that made Cal smile. "I just think at Christmas everythin' should be bright and cheerly."

"So," Cal looked down at his t-shirt. "I'm not in the appropriate festive attire?" Compared to what she was wearing.

Gillian shook her head.

"Want me to take it off?"

Gillian nodded.

Cal sat up straighter so he was on the edge of the cushion and gripped his t-shirt from the hem and pulled it up over his head. The Santa hat got tangled in the material and Cal struggled for a moment in his slightly inebriated state to free his head and arms. Gillian giggled and when Cal finally was clear of his shirt he could see her watching him carefully. He fished around for the Santa hat and placed it back on his head. "Betta?" He asked.

"Much better," Gillian responded.

Cal grinned. "Now what are the chances of me talking you into taking your shirt off?"

Gillian gave him a coy grin. "I'd probably need another drink."

"On the rocks?"

"Screw the rocks."

Cal waggled his eyebrows at her. "Aye aye."

**PJPJPJPJ**

Cal woke up face down on the couch. He was aware of his head pounding even before he was fully conscious. But as hangovers went, he'd had worse. He pried his eyes open and blinked to clear the blurriness. He wondered what the time was. He wondered where his phone was. It was Christmas morning. Emily might be trying to ring him. Then Cal noticed the empty scotch bottle on the table directly across from his face. And next to that, another bottle. He remembered Gillian coming over and a whole lot of scotch. He could taste it in the back of his throat now. He levered himself up slightly, testing the waters, checking to see if they were still rough. Nope. He was doing all right. No obvious signs of a gimpy tummy.

Cal pushed himself up further and shuffled around until he was sitting up right. He noticed two things: his jeans were undone and half way down his thighs; and that he didn't remember how they got that way. He remembered taking his shirt off, though why seemed to elude him at the moment. And he clearly hadn't put it back on. He got up then, slowly, just to be careful and made his way to the kitchen to make coffee first, and then to the bathroom for the usual amenities. While washing his hands at the sink he caught a smear of lipstick on his collar bone. He rubbed it off with a finger wondering how it had gotten there. When he looked closely, he found more lipstick on the corner of his mouth too. He felt a surge of blind panic. What the hell had they done last night?

Cal zipped up his jeans and scuffled to the living room. Gillian's car was still parked in his driveway, so she hadn't driven home. Thank God. She must have been as pissed as he was, probably more so considering she was a light weight. Maybe she got a cab then. He'd call her later to see if she was all right. And to wish her a Merry Christmas. What a nice convenient excuse. _And also, did we sleep together last night or something? You know, fooled around or something? And to add insult to injury, I have to ask, because I don't remember._

Cal went back to the kitchen for coffee. He really needed to clear his head. He rounded the doorway and found Gillian all ready helping herself. She was fully dressed minus shoes and her hair was slightly mussed. Where had she slept last night? And what did she remember?

"Hey," she greeted when she spotted him. She handed over her coffee and reached for another mug to pour another portion.

"Thanks luv," Cal sipped immediately. Gillian poured and followed suit. She eyed him up and Cal remembered he didn't have a shirt on. Too late to go and get one now. He'd have to admit that he was uncomfortable. And he kind of wasn't.

"Thanks for your bed last night," Gillian added.

"Sure," Cal shrugged off the comment while filing the information away. She had stayed, in his bed, but he wasn't in it. Maybe nothing had happened after all. He didn't know how to feel about that.

"Your phone's been ringing all morning."

"Has it?"

"It was beside the bed."

"Right," he nodded, sipped some more. Would it have been weirder if Gillian had answered the phone? Probably would have given Emily even more fuel to speculate over.

"Hey Cal?"

"Yes luv?" He raised his eyes to meet hers.

She gave him a slight smile and let her eyes glance over his naked torso. "Merry Christmas."

That should have been completely weird. But it wasn't. And it was nice. Cal grinned. "Merry Christmas luv."

**PJPJPJPJ**

She could still feel the smooth hand of his as it curled around her waist and into the small of her back. She could still feel his warm lips against hers, kisses that were respectful of intimate boundaries, not demanding anything from her, just delighting in being close against hers. She could remember marvelling at the feel of his bare shoulders and chest under her fingers and then her mouth. She could remember thinking it was all entirely natural, to do that with him, that it hadn't seemed strained, forced, or like they were crossing a line. Which they most certainly were.

She remembered having coherent thoughts about what they were doing even after consuming the better part of a bottle of scotch. She remembered thinking Cal had a way of filling the emptiness in her. She remembered thinking that his embrace was comforting and that his body was nice and that his lips were tasty and that he looked sexy in that hat. And she remembered thinking that she wouldn't go any further with him, as he kissed her sweetly on the stairs, because if they were going to cross that line entirely, she wanted to do it sober and consciously. And she wanted the consequences to be good, not regretful in the wake of a hangover.

Standing in the kitchen with him now, shirtless and drinking coffee domestically, was a distraction. She couldn't keep her eyes off his torso and she figured, the way his lips quirked slightly into little hidden smiles, he probably knew that too. Cal slowly reached out an arm towards her. Gillian looked down. He was offering her his hand. She slipped her fingers against his palm and he took a half step closer to where she was leaning on the bench so her hand fit into his better. He didn't look at her and he didn't stop consuming the black liquid that was waking the both of them up.

And god! that gesture just about made her knees go weak.

"Merry Christmas Gillian," Cal said gently, finally looking over at her with warmth in his eyes.

"Merry Christmas Cal," Gillian responded, a smile in her heart.


End file.
